Out of the Storm
by SerenaSnape88
Summary: The war is over, but escaped Death Eaters still pose a threat to half-bloods and Muggle-borns. Severus discovers Hermione in an alley on the brink of death. AU. Flashbacks to explain their friendship. Eventual SS/HG. M for some violence and possibly sex. Hiatus
1. Blood in the Water

__It is two years after the defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort. While our side claimed the victory, it has not been accompanied by an end to all our troubles. Many Death Eaters remain unaccounted for. The survivors who eluded capture during the final battle fled – naturally – once it was over. Now they are suspected to be responsible for the unprovoked attacks on half-bloods and Muggle-borns which have plagued our world for the past twenty-four months. Many of the targeted population have consented to enter into protective custody, but some refuse. The Order of the Phoenix has been hunting down the rogue Death Eaters to the best of our ability, and all but three now rot in Azkaban.__

_Still, it is not over._

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><p>Severus walked down the streets of Muggle London late one evening, on his way home from an unsuccessful shopping trip in Diagon Alley. He had been hoping to find a copy of a rare Potions textbook he had read as a child and had since gone out of print; every week he checked Flourish &amp; Blotts, and every week he was disappointed. It was raining, and he could easily have Apparated, but sometimes he preferred walking.<p>

He was approaching a narrow alley to his left, and rainwater streamed from it into the street. Something caught his eye; a color out of place in the gray-blue hues of cloudy, rainy London. He looked down into the water and saw that it was accompanied by a rivulet of red.

He stopped in his tracks, his senses heightened, and swiftly withdrew his wand. He then stepped slowly and carefully closer. Placing his back against the wall of the building on the near side of the alley, he cautiously peered around the corner. He could see nothing and no one; it was too dark. "Homenum revelio," he murmured. Only one marker appeared in the alley, ten or so meters away, and it was flickering. Someone was badly hurt.

"Lumos." Using his wand to light his way, he entered the alley, stepping carefully over large pieces of refuse and softly splashing as he went. The closer he got to the dim marker, the more unbalanced the blood-to-water ratio became. By the time he reached the body on the ground, it looked disturbingly like the rain washing down the alley was all blood, all pouring from the person before him.

Long hair and a narrow waist told Severus it was a woman. She was on her side facing away from him, and she was not moving or making a sound. He knelt down and placed one hand gingerly on the back of her head and the other beneath her face, and slowly turned it towards him.

_Hermione Granger._

Shock overcame him, and for an instant he was paralyzed. In that instant he took in her pale, colorless face – even her mouth was robbed of its normal rosy hue – as well as the neat cut on her lower lip, a fresh bruise on her cheek, and a two-inch long gash on her neck, which was still bleeding, though not profusely. Where, then, was all the blood coming from? Regaining control of his muscles, Severus frantically began searching for other wounds. When he took his hand from the back of her head, it came away entirely red.

Attempting to stay his impending panic with a deep breath, he began tracing the tip of his wand over her injuries and muttering the best healing spell he knew. While he did so, he lightly pressed two fingers beneath her jaw and felt a weak, fluttering pulse, then brought the palm of his hand to hover over her mouth and noted very small and sporadic puffs of warm air. A small measure of relief came with those discoveries, but he could tell that she was still very badly off.

"Miss Granger," he said, very gently shaking her shoulders, being careful not to jostle her head. He lightly squeezed her arms, hands, ribcage, hoping to elicit a response. "Miss Granger," he repeated, lightly slapping either side of her face. He leaned down next to her and pronounced, loudly this time, directly into her ear: "Hermione!" She did not stir.

He slid one arm under her legs and the other behind her back, groaning softly as he lifted her from the ground. Her arms hung lifelessly and her head lolled over the crook of his elbow in a way that served only to heighten his fear. "Hold on, Hermione," he said, hoping that some small part of her could hear him. "I've got you. Everything will be alright." Less than a second later, he turned on his heel and Disapparated.

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><p>Severus shouldered the door open and it hit the wall with a bang as his tired legs carried them into the reception area of St. Mungo's. The place was deserted. "Help!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the tile floors. "Help! We need help!" He stepped over to the desk and rang the bell rapidly several times with the hand under her knees. "Hello!" he bellowed into the empty halls. When she began to slip from his grasp, he readjusted her position with a grunt. "Someone, please help! Help!" When no one answered him, he slid down to the floor, still cradling her inert body in his arms, and began to cry. "Please," he continued in a whisper, sobbing over her motionless form, rocking back and forth. "God, please help me."<p>

She was going to die there in his arms. He just knew it. She was going die, never knowing how much she had come to mean to him, never knowing how he felt about her. He had been too much a coward to tell her, or even to show her, and now she would never know. He would live out the remainder of his sad life having twice lost someone dear to him. He pressed his forehead to hers, spilling tears into her already rain-soaked hair.

A sound reached him over the rain outside and his own quiet sobs: light, quick footsteps. He looked up and saw a witch running down the hall towards him. "Hello?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from shouting.

"What's happened?" she asked, still running.

"She needs a healer!" he burst out, not caring about the eloquence of his response.

"What happened to her?" the witch repeated, now kneeling on the floor beside them and checking Hermione's body for signs of life.

"I don't know. I found her like this. She needs a healer," he said again, the desperate note of his voice sounding odd and unfamiliar to his ears. "I did what I could – stopped the bleeding – but she won't wake. Please... please do something."

"Can you lift her?"

"Yes," he replied with a nod, and struggled to his feet with the help of the witch. Her calm demeanor and the confidence with which she took control of the situation eased some of his panic.

"Follow me," she said, and took off at a brisk pace down the hall.

She led him to a room near the back of the hospital with a single bed, and he placed Hermione gently on it without being asked. "Lumos," she murmured, and opened each of Hermione's eyelids in turn, shining the light into them to test the response of her pupils.

"Are you a healer?" Severus asked.

"Apprentice," the witch replied, with a hint of apology in her tone. "I'll do what I can to stabilize her now, and then I'll call my superior. It looks like she's lost a lot of blood," she remarked, noting Hermione's pallor.

Severus' own face blanched at the memory of the stream of blood that had flowed down the alley. "Yes," he replied, his voice cracking.

She immediately began to set up a sort of IV, comprised of a long, narrow tube that tapered into a needlelike point and an upside-down bottle of a potion Severus did not recognize which she charmed to float in midair. When the potion started to flow, she firmly stuck the end of the tube in a vein in Hermione's left arm and secured it with medical grade Spello-tape.

"Where were her wounds?"

"One small gash on her neck," Severus quickly replied, drawing his finger gently across where the cut had been, "a split lip, and at the back of her head."

"Damn," the witch cursed under her breath.

"What is it?" he asked, a measure of his earlier panic returning to him.

"She may have suffered a concussion. If that's the case, and if she's been unconscious for a long time, she may be headed for a coma. I need to summon the healer right away."

_Coma._ The word seeped into his mind, bringing with it ice-cold fingers of dread that caressed the entire length of his spine. He had no attention to spare as the witch cast her Patronus and sent it with a message to her boss.

"I'm going to wait for him at the front desk," she told him. "Monitor her pulse and her breathing, and call me if anything changes."

Once she had left, Severus took the seat next to the bed, brought it as close as he could possibly get, took gentle hold of Hermione's wrist, and watched her chest rise and fall. Her pulse was weak but steady, her breaths slow and shallow. He placed his free hand lightly on her head, softly stroking her brow with his thumb and sinking his long fingers into her hair. "Everything will be alright," he said once more, wanting to believe it himself. "You are going to be fine, Hermione. It will be alright."

He gently placed his hand in hers, hoping for the twitch of a finger or a tiny squeeze, some small muscle contraction that would tell him she had heard him. When none arrived, he began to weep again.


	2. Friend

Only a few minutes passed before the apprentice reentered the room, this time with an older, slightly balding, bespectacled man on her heels. Severus immediately stood and stepped out of the way, wanting to be as little a hindrance to their care of Hermione as possible. They went straight to her bed, one on either side of her, and Severus watched and listened with nearly unendurable anxiety.

"Loss of blood?" the healer asked, noting the IV.

"Significant," his assistant replied. "Her color has improved slightly."

"Head trauma?"

"Likely. The worst of her injuries was at the back of her head, and she hasn't stirred."

The healer gently turned Hermione's face to the side, exposing the back of her head, and began speedily muttering a spell. A small dot of red appeared where her injury had been, and it slowly grew to a fist-sized crimson cloud, swirling in the air.

"What is that?" Severus asked.

"Not good," the healer tersely replied.

"What does it mean? Is she going to be alright?" His voice was rising in volume and pitch.

"Sir, I don't mean to be rude, but I really need to concentrate."

Severus immediately silenced himself.

"Can you handle this on your own?" the apprentice quietly asked.

"Yes. Take him outside and take her history, please."

The witch stepped away from Hermione's bedside and met Severus' eyes. "Come with me," she said, and stepped out of the room.

He followed her, but his eyes didn't leave Hermione until he was out the door. They stopped some ten feet down the hall from the room, and she summoned a tablet, a roll of parchment, a pot of ink, and a quill from the front desk. Allowing the ink to levitate, the dipped the quill and began her questions.

"First, I'll need your name," she said.

"Severus Snape."

She looked up at him briefly and commented, "I thought you looked familiar," as she noted it on the page. "Name of the patient?" she asked, getting back to business.

Severus swallowed, but his voice still broke as he said her name. "Hermione Jane Granger."

She quickly scribbled his response. "Date of birth?"

"September the nineteenth, 1979."

"Next of kin?"

At this, Severus frowned. "Her parents are Muggles; their whereabouts are unknown. She modified their memories and relocated them during the war, and has since been unable to find them."

The witch nodded her understanding, but pushed the subject. "Is there anyone we can list as her next of kin? Anyone at all?"

After a moment's deliberation, he answered, "Harry Potter."

As she added Harry's name to the chart, she asked, "And who should we contact in case of an emergency?"

Severus answered gravely but with authority. "Mister Potter and myself."

Once again, she recorded his answer to her question while asking the next one. "And your relationship to the patient?" She finished the last letter of his name and looked up at him, waiting for his reply.

_The most important person in my life. The one I cannot stand to lose. The woman I love._ "Friend," he finally responded, his voice gruff with emotion. He lowered his gaze then, roughly wiping the heel of his hand against his eyes.

This did not go unnoticed by the healer's apprentice. Her expression softened, and she allowed him a moment before she said, "We'll take good care of her. Theodore is the best healer I've ever seen. My name is Gwen. Please don't hesitate to ask if you need anything."

He nodded, still refusing to meet her eyes. "Thank you."

"If you'll just wait out here, one of us will update you as soon as we've determined her condition and the extent of the damages. Will you be alright?"

Again he nodded, sniffing loudly. She left him.

Severus waited until she disappeared into Hermione's room before he followed. He leaned against the wall right outside her door, fretfully twisting his hands and fighting the tightness in his throat. His thoughts were all for her, and as he contemplated her importance in his life, the meaning and – dare he admit it? – the happiness she had brought to it, his mind wandered to the very first conversation they had had as more than professor and pupil. It was the first time she had dared to address him as an equal, and it had brought the first stirring of change between them.

_(Two years ago)_

_ Severus was barricaded in the basement of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, seeking privacy and solitude. The Potter boy and his friend Granger (though obvious targets for the band of Death Eaters who were still at large) had, like him, elected not to leave the country, and had, also like him, taken up temporary residence at the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. Ronald Weasley joined them, as well – to be close to the girl, Severus suspected. It appeared that they were something of an item. Living with three teenagers – one of whom was now fully aware of the all-consuming love Severus had harbored for his mother – was nigh unbearable. So, of course, he spent a great deal of his waking hours in the basement, where no one else seemed to want to be._

_ At least a dozen books were spread out on the table before him, all open to the last few pages. A rather sharp headache was forming behind his eyes, which were tired from hours of examining fine print, but the project he was undertaking mattered too much for him to consider abandoning it. He ran one long, slender finger down the page as he read, flipping back hundreds of pages every so often, always returning to the back of the book. When yet another proved to lack the information he sought, he slammed it shut with an aggravated curse._

_ "Professor Snape?"_

_ He snapped his head up, detecting the twinge of what was sure to become a very painful crick in his neck, to see none other than his one female housemate. His normally thin patience was stretched even more so by the continued fruitlessness of his months-long endeavor, as well as the recent revelation of every last one of his deepest, most personal secrets. "Miss Granger, I know you can see that I am busy. What do you want?"_

_ Unperturbed by his poor temper, she stepped closer. "I was just wondering if you happened to have a decent book on Wizarding Law. I saw you walk in with a stack of books this morning."_

_ "I do not," he brusquely answered with an impatient sigh, already buried in another book._

_ But she was not ready to be dismissed. She took the footsteps required to nearly close the distance between them, coming to stand right next to his chair. Being careful not to disturb the book he was reading, she lifted the covers of each one she had access to, reading their titles. "Are all of these books about potions?" she inquired._

_ "Books about potions," he confirmed, "and books about books about potions."_

_ "What are you looking for?" she asked, genuine curiosity evident in her tone._

_ "What I am looking for is immaterial," he abruptly replied, "as I will never find it with you nattering on and distracting me. Go away and leave me in peace."_

_ For several moments, silence stretched between them, and then she began to walk away. When she was halfway to the door, however, she stopped and turned to face him. "Keeping to yourself was all well and good when you were playing both sides," she asserted, "but things are different now. The war is over. Eventually, you are going to have to learn to live among the rest of us."_

_ He had no idea what it was, but something stirred in him the urge to comply with her statement, even though to do so went against every one of his instincts and habits. Maybe he felt he was beginning to stagnate. Maybe he wanted to avoid awkwardness with her later. Maybe some small, hidden part of him actually wanted company. Whatever the reason, just as she placed her hand on the doorknob, he forced himself to answer her. "'The Beginning of Potion-Making in the Magical World' by Frederick Finglegott."_

_ Once more, she turned to face him. "I beg your pardon?"_

_ He let escape a small sigh before pushing the next words out of his mouth. "That's what I'm looking for. It's a rare book; it's been out of print for decades." She was walking back towards him now, and suddenly it was much more difficult to cease the flow of words than it had been to start it. "I read it when I was a child. It belonged to my mother, and I think she inherited it from one of her parents. I lost it years ago." Deciding that she had heard enough of the personal details, he changed the course of the conversation. "I've been scouring the indexes of every potions book I can find, searching for some mention of it as a reference, so I can find who published it. But everywhere I turn leads to another dead end." He leaned back in his chair then and slowly rubbed his face with his hands._

_ "Can I help you look?" she asked._

_ He turned to look at her, mystification etched in every line of his face. He could not imagine why she would elect to spend any of her spare time with him. He had always been morose, unpleasant, and even downright harsh – in short, exceedingly poor company. And on top of that, she had a new amour living under the very same roof! Surely she had better things to do. But he studied her expression for a full quarter of a minute, and she showed no signs of insincerity._

_ "Alright," he finally acquiesced._

_ And, unexpectedly, they spent the remainder of the afternoon in quiet, companionable study._


	3. Shock, Grief and Rage

**Author's note: Thank you all so much for sticking with me! I'm sorry for the delayed updates... I'm working on another story, too. In this chapter you will find out something terrible about what happened to Hermione. Also, Harry shows up. -Serena-**

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><p>Half an hour passed with Severus waiting outside Hermione's room in St. Mungo's, and each minute that ticked by was accompanied by a substantial increase of his disquiet. Several times he considered reentering the room, feeling that he was unable to bear not knowing what was happening to her for a moment longer. Those urges were second only to his desire to stay out of the healer's way. He instead channeled his nervous energy into pacing and pleading fervently for her recovery in nearly inaudible whispers. When the door finally opened, revealing the balding man, Severus immediately ceased and stepped right up to him. "Yes?"<p>

"Professor Snape," the healer began, extending his hand, "I'm Theodore McCrary. I apologize for my shortness with you earlier."

"Not at all," Severus impatiently dismissed the apology and briefly shook the man's hand. "How is Miss Granger?"

Mr. McCrary's eyes took on the regretful and cheerless expression of one who has bad news to deliver; all the same, he related Hermione's condition in a direct and professional manner. "As we suspected, she received substantial head trauma. The back of her skull was shattered. It also appeared as though her brain was swelling, so after I mended her skull I created a small hole in it. The fluid is draining easily, and the swelling should go down in a few hours. Three of her ribs were broken, and some of her fingernails were bent, suggesting that she fought her attacker."

Severus nodded, trying to remain calm and in control of his emotions so that he could absorb all the information the healer was giving him. "How long will it take her to recover?"

"There's no telling," Mr. McCrary said, shrugging apologetically. "Her heart and lungs are operating regularly on their own, so her brain is the only obstacle. She could wake up when the swelling goes down, or she could not. We'll just have to wait and see."

Severus was beginning to feel slightly ridiculous from all the head-bobbing, so he stopped.

"There's something else," the healer said, and the sadness in his eyes returned. "After I mended her skull and arranged for the fluid to drain, I continued the spell I had begun to locate the rest of her injuries." Again he paused, and it was obvious how difficult it was for him to deliver the blow. When he resumed his speech, it was in a softened tone. "We found small tears in her vaginal walls."

All the air was sucked from Severus' lungs. His mouth gaped open absurdly, but he couldn't seem to draw breath. His mind was spinning uncontrollably, unable to form a complete thought as it had abandoned coherency completely. "Are you – " His voice broke, so he began again. "Are you saying she was..."

Mr. McCrary gave a slow nod. "We believe that she was raped, yes."

Without even realizing he did so, Severus brought a hand up to his face and covered his mouth with cold, limp fingers. Two tears streamed down his cheeks, unaccompanied by sobs. His grief was tempered by utter shock. He couldn't even manage to blink.

"Her assailant must have performed _scourgify_ when it was over; there wasn't a shred of evidence left behind. All the same, we've given her an emergency contraceptive potion as well as one to prevent disease."

Still, Severus said nothing.

"Would you like us to notify her next of kin now?"

It seemed to take all of his strength to summon his speech. On his third attempt, he managed to reply in a tight, throaty whisper: "I'll call him."

* * *

><p>The Patronus Severus had sent Harry was brief and to the point: "Emergency. Hermione has been attacked. Come to St. Mungo's immediately." He arrived within minutes; Severus could hear his sneakers squeaking with rainwater as he ran to the back of the hospital.<p>

"Snape," he said immediately upon rounding the last corner and seeing Severus. "Where is she? What's happened?"

Severus still could not manage to articulate anything involving Hermione's attack; it was too new, the wound too fresh for him to be able to endure acknowledging it with words. He only pointed to Theodore McCrary, who was standing some fifteen feet away outside of Hermione's door.

Harry ran to the healer and repeated some variation of the same question. Severus could have discerned every word of the conversation if he had tried, but he did not need to hear. He only watched the exchange out of the corner of his eye, allowing it to be the counterpart to the healer's earlier testimony, which was constantly repeating itself in his mind.

Harry's shoulders went incredibly stiff, and then he whirled around, slamming his fist into a wall and releasing a short cry of anguish and rage. He then began pacing, pulling at his already disheveled hair, before delivering another blow to the wall. He sank to the floor, crying.

Mr. McCrary knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, murmuring something Severus had no prayer of hearing. After a few minutes, they both stood and the healer led Harry into Hermione's room.

Severus remained exactly where he was, staring straight ahead at the wall before him. He felt like a marionette whose strings had been methodically cut in one swift stroke. He could not summon the energy to move, to think, barely even to breathe. They – he, Hermione, and Harry – had fallen into a false sense of security over the past two years. Even as he and Harry had actively searched for the three remaining Death Eaters, each month they passed unharmed had only encouraged their complacency. They had begun to underestimate the danger they were all in. He never should have allowed her to go out alone. He should have continued to assign someone to escort her wherever she went, the way he had done at first, or even escorted her himself. He should have been as close to her as her own shadow.

Now she had been brutally beaten and raped, and Severus knew he was responsible. Even one-thousandth of the blame for such a horrifying event was too much.

Soon, Harry returned into the hall and came to sit down next to him. Severus pretended not to hear Harry's quiet sniffling, and Harry affected not to notice how deeply Severus was disturbed. They did not look at each other. "Any chance it was a Muggle?" he finally asked.

Severus shook his head. "He left no evidence, no kind of residue whatsoever. A cleaning charm had to have been used."

"You think it was one of the Death Eaters?"

He nodded gravely. "I do."

_One of my former comrades,_ Severus thought to himself. _Augustus Rookwood. Thorfinn Rowle. Walden MacNair. One of them did this to her. One of them raped my Hermione._

Severus took a restorative breath before inquiring, "Have you thought about who you're going to inform of what happened?"

There was a moment of silence, and Severus could tell that Harry had not, in fact, thought about it, but was doing so now. "Probably just Ron and his family," he finally replied. "She's not really close to anyone else."

Severus nodded his approval.

"What are we going to do about this?" Harry asked.

"I am going to request that the Order resume our search for the Death Eaters with full force," he replied, "and perhaps even suggest that we suspend the other missions temporarily to devote our full manpower to tracking them down."

Harry nodded emphatically, clearly relieved to be planning some sort of action.

Now Severus turned to face the boy, and waited until Harry looked him in the eyes before he continued. "I am going to continue the search for them alone."

Harry's brows drew together. "You mean without the Order? Snape, you _need_ them. They've got people and supplies at their disposal that you wouldn't have alone. We're much stronger with all of our talents combined."

"And they also have rules against certain modes of interrogation and punishment which I have every intention of performing," Severus replied, his black eyes boring into Harry's with cold, steely determination. "I am not going to do this on a leash, Potter."

Harry held his former professor's unwavering gaze while he considered the actions that were being implied; he knew that Severus would completely disregard the law in favor of delivering justice to the one responsible for Hermione's condition. After long and thorough deliberation, he said, "I'm coming with you."

"No," Severus argued, shaking his head. "I will need you to remain a fully active member of the Order. You can help me from the inside, perhaps utilize some of the tools they have at their disposal that I will not have." He paused for a moment before adding, "You are also the only person I trust to let me know immediately if she gets better or..." He could not bring himself to verbalize the other possibility.

Harry reluctantly saw the sense in Severus' line of reasoning, was flattered by the man's trust in him, and surprised that he would admit to it. He finally nodded his agreement, and withdrew his wand to send a Patronus to the Weasleys.

Before this night, Severus had hunted down the last Death Eaters for the safety of the public; because it had been the mission assigned to him as a member of the Order of the Phoenix; and simply because it had been right. Now it was personal.


	4. The Eyes, the Heart

**Author's note: I PROMISE I will get us out of the hospital after this chapter. I'm sick of being there. There's another flashback here (I'm planning on there being one about every other chapter); it's a little bit of humor to break up the drama. Also, the Weasleys arrive. -Serena-**

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><p>In no time at all, Arthur, Molly, and Ginny came rushing down the hall towards Hermione's room. Molly was near hysterics; she looked on Hermione almost as one of her own children. Arthur was entirely calm, but his face was drawn in dire concern. Ginny was visibly distressed – her eyes were red and she shifted her weight constantly – but silent. Harry went to her immediately.<p>

"What's happened?" she asked him quietly.

"Yes, Severus," Molly breathed, "tell us at once. What's happened to Hermione?"

"She will live," Severus informed her first, hoping to calm her enough to ensure that she would absorb everything he said. "She will be fine. She has suffered some head trauma and is in a mild coma."

"Oh!" Molly gasped, reaching for her husband's hand and grasping it tightly.

"She will be fine," he repeated. "The healer has every confidence that she will wake; he is just not certain when."

"But what happened?" Molly shrilly demanded, and Arthur gently squeezed her shoulder, urging her to be calm.

"I found her in an alley in Muggle London about two hours ago," he replied. "She was unconscious and bleeding from the back of her head. Her face was bruised, and the healer also found broken ribs and bent fingernails." He paused, unready to relate the last and most devastating detail. "I believe that she was attacked by one of the Death Eaters."

Molly's eyes took on a piercing quality, though they remained large and round in her sadness. "There's something else," she mumbled, studying Severus' face. "There's something you're not telling us, Severus," she said again, this time with unmistakable accusation. "What is it?"

Before he could even attempt to speak, George and Ron rounded the corner and joined them. "We came as quickly as we could," George announced apologetically. "Had to kick everyone out of the shop."

"Harry, what's going on?" Ron asked him, completely ignoring Severus, as was his habit.

Harry then turned to Severus, and they exchanged a long stare, laden with meaning. "I think I should speak to Ron alone," he quietly said.

Severus nodded, and Harry gave Ginny a tight hug and a kiss before leading Ron back towards the front door.

Molly then said to George, "Hermione's been attacked, likely by a Death Eater. She's in a mild coma." She then turned back to Severus. "Where is the healer? Are we allowed to see her?"

"The healer's name is Theodore McCrary; he and his assistant, Gwen, are in the room with her now. You are all allowed to see her; in fact, I think it would be best if there were at least two people with her at all times." When they began migrating past him, he held up a hand to stop them and met Molly's eyes. "You were right, Molly. There is something I haven't told you."

"Well, what is it?" she asked impatiently.

Suddenly, a series of shouts, bangs and crashes met their ears – Ron was screaming incoherently, and likely hitting and kicking everything in sight. They could barely make out Harry's voice over the din, trying to calm him; then all was quiet, save for the sound of Ron crying.

Molly's eyes, already filled with tears, slowly returned to Severus, along with Arthur's, George's and Ginny's. "What is it, Severus?" she asked again, this time in hardly more than a whisper.

He honestly had no idea how he was going to manage saying it out loud. He felt sure that the words would tear him apart from the inside, ripping his throat, his tongue, and his lips on the way out. He was certain that forming the syllables would cause him to bleed inwardly. He opened his mouth, took a breath, but it caught in his throat. He tried to think of it as though he were reading the words off a page, in reference to someone else, someone he didn't know. He tried to think of it as a story, or as a lie. Finally, he closed his eyes and somehow succeeded, though it was in a hoarse, grating whisper. "She was raped."

There was a palpable sensation in the air of the spirits of everyone in the hall hitting bottom. Ginny made an odd noise – half gasp, half sob – as her hand covered her mouth and tears began streaming ceaselessly down her cheeks. George's face was pale and it was clear that he had no idea how to react to such news, apart from wrapping a comforting arm around his sister. Molly wept silently, still looking at Severus. Arthur cast his eyes to the floor, a grimace of pain corrupting his features, and his knuckles were white on his wife's shoulder.

Ron reentered the hall then, but had no attention to spare for anyone there; he shouldered past them without a word and barged into Hermione's room. Harry followed more slowly in his wake, looking very tired and a little aged, and stopped next to Ginny, who stepped out of her brother's arms in favor of her husband's. He rocked her gently and smoothed her hair down her back as she gently cried into his chest.

Arthur and Molly walked towards her door hand-in-hand and quietly entered her room; George fell in step behind them, his hands in his pockets, still looking like he had not the slightest idea how to handle the situation; Harry led Ginny in the same direction with an arm around her waist, and she leaned on him heavily, looking as though she was too distressed to support her own weight.

"Don't make yourself ill over this," he softly murmured, resting a hand on his wife's still-flat belly. She placed her hand over his, nodded in understanding and, with a deep yet quivering breath, bore herself up.

Severus remained where he was, wanting to allow them a few minutes of privacy with her, and needing the same few minutes to gather his strength. He was unwilling to allow anyone to witness the way he would surely look at Hermione at that moment. It was perhaps fortunate that he had so many years of experience in disguise and deceit; after this devastating blow, he honestly did not think he could bear it if someone looked into his eyes and saw what was in his heart.

* * *

><p><em>Weeks later, sometime around two in the morning, Severus found himself lying in bed in his room at Grimmauld Place, every light extinguished, and not even marginally capable of sleep. It wasn't precisely unusual, simply annoying. Several times he closed his eyes, only to realize some minutes later that he had opened them again, and he had no memory of doing so.<em>

_He and Miss Granger had called it a night nearly five hours before, leaving the books exactly as they were so that they could easily resume their work in the morning. She had somehow convinced him (though he hadn't even the feeblest recollection of how) to eat with her and the boys in the dining room, and almost immediately he had regretted that decision. Things between him and Mr. Potter were no longer hostile, but about one hundred times more awkward now that the young man knew that his mother had been the one and only love of Severus' life; Mr. Weasley, however, had suddenly and inexplicably developed a brand-new fashion of antagonism for him. They had never held an actual conversation, but it had now been nearly a month since they had exchanged even a single word, and animosity simply radiated from the boy. Severus could have performed "legilimens" to find out why, but the fact that Mr. Weasley refused to make eye contact with him would have made it much more difficult, and Severus suspected that the younger man's thoughts were probably not worth the extra effort._

_Miss Granger, in her good-hearted way, had tried her best to lighten the mood and to engage everyone in conversation, but in vain. Severus had eaten about half of what was on his plate, excused himself, and made a beeline for his room, where he now had no hope of sleeping._

_Resigning himself to that conclusion, he pushed the covers off, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and reached for his tattered blue bathrobe, which he pulled on and tied as he made his way to the door._

_The house was dead silent at this time of night, and not even the squeaking of a floorboard beneath his feet disrupted it. Moonlight streamed through the windows and provided just enough illumination to render the lighting of his wand unnecessary. He climbed down the two staircases separating the third floor (where his room could be found) from the ground level, padded across the carpet in the front hall, and stepped into the kitchen, across which the door to the basement was located. He had almost reached his destination when – _

_"Professor?"_

_In the very next instant, he was facing the opposite direction and pointing his wand at the owner of the voice that had startled him. He couldn't remember thinking the word "lumos," but he must have done, because a bed-headed and pajama-clad Hermione Granger was standing in a beam of light emanating from his wand._

_He took in her short cotton nightgown (which exposed a great deal more of her thighs than Severus found strictly necessary) in less than a second, and immediately afterwards he steadfastly resolved to keep his eyes above her shoulders _no matter what. _Relaxing his stance, he let out his breath and said, somewhat irritably, "Miss Granger, what on earth are you doing down here?"_

_"Getting a glass of water," she answered, holding up the glass in her hand as evidence. "I couldn't sleep. You?"_

_"I couldn't sleep, either, obviously. I thought I might as well work."_

_"Oh," she replied, nodding. A beat passed, and when he failed to lower his wand she withdrew her own and cast a beam of light back at him. Giving him a quick once-over, she observed, "That's a good color on you."_

_"Don't be ridiculous," he quickly returned, feeling all the more self-conscious that someone was looking at him in his bathrobe, which had never, ever happened before._

_"Very well, I won't pay you a compliment, if it makes you that uncomfortable." Her tone was entirely calm and unaffected, as though she was not at all bothered by seeing her former professor in a state of semi-undress, or even by the fact that he was seeing her in a similar condition. In truth, she was considerably less dressed than he – not that he ever would have admitted to noticing. "Would you like me to help you work?"_

_"I don't need you to help me every single time I crack open a book," he snapped, still cross from being caught off-guard, and by everything that had followed._

_Unperturbed, she simply shrugged and began walking in his direction. "Suit yourself," she said as she passed him on her way out of the kitchen._

_She had stepped into the front hall by the time Severus decided to call after her. "You can help me if you want to; I don't care." As soon as the words had left his mouth, he cringed at how clumsy and inelegant they sounded._

_She quietly returned into the kitchen. "Is that as close to a request as I'm going to get?"_

_Sheer annoyance flared up in him. "Yes!" he shot back at her in a heated tone, the word landing somewhere between a growl and a hiss._

_"Fine." She headed down to the basement without another word, and – because he was at a loss for anything else to do – he followed._


End file.
